The Marks That Bind Us
by SiobhanSundering
Summary: Bellatrix and Hermione collide in a situation that is quite compromising for the both of them. Sparks of many kinds ensue. Shoujo-ai, Femmeslash, whatever you call it. It's there.
1. When They Meet

Disclaimer: Harry Potter not mine. Just say no! No! No! No!

A/N: Yes. Unconventional pairing. In every sense of the words ^_^. This is a Bellatrix/Hermione. There is strongly implied intimacy in this. The consent is sketchy at best. Taking these things in mind, I am fully open to any input besides that I am damned to Hell for my sinful lifestyle or anything like "HARRYXDRACO FOREVER". Be forewarned. In event of this comment, swift death will follow. In reference to magical creatures, Acromantulae equals Aragog and company, Nundu is an enormous black leopard native to Africa. Its breath is said to be capable of striking down entire villages and it has never been neutralized without the cooperation of fewer than a hundred highly skilled wizards acting in tandem. Information taken from Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them. So, without further ado, here we go!

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When They Meet 

"Damn these dressing robes."

Hermione's cold, quickly stiffening fingers impatiently grasped the thin cloth of her robe, hiking it out of the way so she could see where she was going. In so far as the robe was no longer obstruction her line of vision, it worked marvelously. However, in the long run it was all a moot point. Heavy clouds crowded the night sky, making the scenery about her even less visible than normal and she was almost frustrated beyond her capabilities of tolerance. The curly brown-haired girl shivered, as much out of cold as a sense of foreboding; usually when she committed major infractions of Hogwarts policy she had Ron and Harry to blame it on. This time, sadly, she was left with no one to blame because they had both flatly refused to have anything to do with finding her wayward charge.

"Crookshanks! Blast it all, where the devil are you?!"

A gust of air escaped her lips in a great sigh, blowing thin wisps of curls upwards momentarily. She really did wish someone was here with her right now. Her full cognizance of the family of Acromantulae residing in the Forbidden Forest, as well as any number of nefarious creatures, possessed instructors, Dark Lords and whatnot that could be stalking the Hogwarts ground was not particularly reassuring to her right now, and sometimes she just detested her obsessive need to know. Times like right now. Like when her cat went missing for days and she just had to find him even though a part of her knew that the vicious cat was perfectly capable of surviving on its own. Well, she would beg her forgiveness of Crookshanks after she had tanned his orange little hide for disappearing like this, but there was no way that Hermione Granger was going to put the littlest toe in the Forbidden Forest tonight. No sir. With her luck, a nundu would have taken up full residence there and she would wind up selling her virgin soul to warlocks long gone to get herself out alive.

Doubtless, her oh-so positive line of thinking, and her obvious and quite understandable frustration had something to do with her not noticing her close proximity to Hagrid's cabin until the dark mass was looming before her. Needless to say, the brown-haired witch nearly jumped out of her skin in shock before realizing what it was. Then she heaved a sigh of patent relief, her heartbeat slowly calming down...until a twig snapped behind her. Every muscle in her body screamed painfully, tensing as she whipped around stiffly. There was nothing save for the forest that loomed dark and forbidding and clear night air behind her.

"Blimey, calm down, Hermione. This is Hogwarts, just about the safest place on earth to be." Hermione chastised herself for her nervousness. It was true; all the wards placed upon the ancient castle made it near impenetrable to harm. As she herself had told others quite often, there was no apparation or disapparation possible on Hogwarts grounds, and the school itself was unplottable. Now, normally, this would be all well and good, and there would be no danger lurking on the Hogwarts grounds, but this was Hermione Granger. Companion of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Part of a trio that never failed to get into life endangering situations. All this information that she had forgotten to enter into the equation was slammed into her mind like Harry's Patronus had charged her when she felt herself grabbed from behind and slammed not so gently into the rough wooden portal of Hagrid's cabin door. Left hand reaching wildly for her wand, searching frantically in the black, which she now cursed, robes, she realized that the nighttime made it impossible for her to locate the pocket, which blended in perfectly with the dark cloth. Eyes staring straight ahead at what had her trapped up against the door, right arm pinned to the door, skin sensitive against the rough grain of the wood, she froze, ceasing all struggle and her mouth opened in horror, hazelish-brown eyes widening in frightened shock.

"Ohhhh no....," She whimpered, not even realizing she was speaking. Her quiet moan didn't carry very far in the stillness of the night, but it was still loud enough for her captor to hear.

"Well if it isn't Mudblood Granger. Fancy meeting you on a night like this." The slightly high voice entered Hermione's ears, causing her to grow even paler. Its cruelty seemed to be oddly complemented by the amusement that the young witch could barely detect in her panic and her breath started coming faster as she gazed into the cold eyes of the woman who currently held her pinned solidly by pressing hip and thigh against Hermione's lower body and holding both of her arms uselessly pinned against the door. The last time she had seen this woman was in the Ministry of Magic...the night Sirius Black had died. Only saw her once, but Hermione would never forget the face. Hair as dark as Sirius' and a good length longer, coldly impersonal eyes set in heavy-lidded eyes, and a mouth that tended to curl in sneering amusement. Add to those physical attributes the fact that she was tall enough that she towered over Hermione and it was a wonder, Hermione thought, that she hadn't gone and wet herself yet. 

The young witch found herself thinking, rather irrationally considering the situation, that it was rather a shame that such a good looking family tending to the nefarious evil type. And it was true, Bellatrix Lestrange bore a startling resemblance to Sirius, replete with the same unconscious self-confidence brought on by money, looks and charm. Of course, that obvious kinship hadn't prevented the dark haired woman from killing her cousin. Hermione felt another twinge of grief as she recalled the graceful arch his body had taken through the veil and shook it off as she realized that if Bellatrix felt so little for blood relations she probably would delight in killing a mudblood who had associated with Sirius Black. 'I think I'd have taken the nundu.' she thought. However, she stared defiantly into Bellatrix's dark eyes and spat her next words at the woman, whose body was pressing against her in a most strange and unfamiliar fashion.

"Bellatrix Lestrange! I thought you were still running like a right dog with your tail quivering 'tween your knees after Dumbledore finished with you."

Hermione did her best impression of a sneer, but she was afraid that she only managed to achieve a full-lipped pout. Maybe that was what the pure blood was for; to improve the quality of sneer. Draco was certainly adept at it, although if the savage grin that Bellatrix was shooting at her now was to be taken for her rendition of a sneer, Hermione had to say in all honesty that it more closely resembled a seductive smirk. Her shoulders were really aching in their sockets right now; the female Death Eater was much taller than she would ever be and didn't seem to take notice of the fact that her idea of a comfortable position was a few inches higher than Hermione's. 

Bellatrix didn't answer immediately, in fact, she didn't answer for the next few minutes. Instead, she removed one hand pinning Hermione's arms and held her down now with only her left. Hermione wasn't stupid; she seized the opportunity by struggling wildly, only to find out that Bellatrix Lestrange was a great deal stronger than she looked, and now she had her wand in her right hand.

Hermione gave Bellatrix the look she often gave Ron and Harry. Her brown eyes resolute, she jutted her chin forth in a show of admirable courage.

"If you're going to kill me, bloody well do it now and get it over with!" 

There. She'd go out unbowed now, Hermione thought with satisfaction, and an aching sadness that she didn't get to say good bye to Crookshanks, Ron, and Harry, as well as everybody else at Hogwarts, even Neville. Mentally, she said her farewells now, since it was the closest she'd ever get.

Bellatrix laughed, long and unrestrained. It didn't sound as raucous as it had in the Ministry...Hermione had thought her quite psychotic back then. She still did, although she would concede that the laugh had gotten infinitely more pleasant. Her wand hand began to move, raising slowly and steadily until the thin rod was inches away from the center of Hermione's forehead, about where Harry had his lightning bolt scar. 'Guess he won't be the only one with a mark. Except he'll be alive then, won't he?', Hermione thought frustratedly, and what aggravated her most was that her last thought would be how strangely pleasant the scent that was wafting in her nose was, faintly spicy and warm.

"I do believe that comment about Dumbledore was meant to insult me. I've always found it interesting that you Gryffindors...it is Gryffindor isn't it? 'Course it is. That you Gryffindors consider choosing survival over asserting the fact that you are indeed more weak and idiotic and overall, inferior to your opponents, insulting. Oh well, I guess that's the difference between Slytherin and Gryffindor. I make no qualms about it, little witch, Dumbledore is far more powerful than I am, with much more experience and ability than I have ever allowed myself to fool myself into thinking. I should be adequate enough to be able to handle you quite nicely though, little witch, and you needn't go around trying to look like jailbait with those lips of yours." The wand had not moved in all the time of Bellatrix's talking, and now the taller woman slowly drew closer and closer to Hermione, who was still pretending to be a stoic, until she was as close as the wand and Hermione knew for an indelible certainty whose exotic scent that was. Smirking lips opened in what seemed like slow motion as Bellatrix moved to speak those two words that would end Hermione's, now that she thought about it, pathetically insubstantial life. Brown eyes that threatened to tear over at any moment closed and Hermione inhaled a shaky breath in preparation, her last breath on Earth. God, she hated dying.

"Alohomora." 

The word cut like a knife in the thick tension. Hermione, eyes tightly shut, missed Bellatrix moving the wand six inches to the right to point at the door. The spell, not the one she had expected to hear, caught her by surprise and she had barely registered it before the door swung backwards and she was falling from the lack of support. Why wasn't she dead yet again? She could have sworn she should be dead now.

The thud and sharp pain that knocked the breath out of her told her without a doubt that she was indeed alive. As a second weight slammed into her from above, knocking any remaining air she had in her lungs out in a gigantic wheeze, she rather wished she was dead. Dead was good compared to bearing the weight of a tall, proven to be not so nice, murderous witch on compressed lungs. Ahh..., she found herself already musing, it had been beautiful when she could breathe.

The weight rolled off her and she sucked in a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling several times before saying the first comment that came to her mind.

"Bloody 'ell, you're heavy, woman!" Oh great, she winced. If Bellatrix hadn't killed her before, she would surely do it now. But the only response was a quiet chuckle. Maybe if she ran away now..but it was pitch black in the cabin; Hagrid was gone away on some top-secret business for Dumbledore. Silently, she rummaged through her robes again, which were now pinned so that they were extremely tight around her body. Shaking fingers closed around a solid object and with her wand in hand, Hermione jerked up, whipped her hand out, and with a flourish, lit the room.

"Lumos!"

The cabin was illuminated in a blueish cast and Hermione prepared to jerk the rest of the way up, knock Bellatrix over, and run away to inform the nearest person that there was a Death Eater on Hogwarts grounds. Besides the Young Death Eaters of course. As Hermione began to move, she raised her head to plan the best path out of the cabin...and froze in shock. This was the third time this night she had been struck dumb with surprise, and the first that she had seen more of Bellatrix than her face. This was also the second time that night that she realized that when she was shocked she had a nasty habit of saying the first thing that came to her mind.

"Christ! You're quite naked aren't you?!"


	2. Expediency Lies Bleeding

Disclaimer: This is not JK Rowling. No one but JK Rowling owns the rights to Harry Potter. You do the math, smartass. ^_^

A/N: Dizaymn, the Harry Potter section gets updated so many times that I barely get any feedback. Unless that's just my writing..:/ Ah, well. Here's the next chapter.

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Expediency Lies Bleeding 

Hermione Granger, sixth year student at Hogwarts, prefect of Gryffindor, and all around over achieving witch, had seen many sights in her relatively short life. Living traps, three headed dogs, enormous dragons, Dark Lords reincarnated, soul-sucking monsters, you name it, Hermione had been confronted with them all. This shocked her beyond any of the aforementioned options by a long shot. This being, of course, Bellatrix Lestrange, the murderer of Sirius Black, standing naked as the day she was born in Hagrid's cabin. Not only was she not supposed to be anywhere near Hogwarts grounds, but on top of that, the woman was buck naked for crissakes! What on earth was Hermione supposed to do but utter some completely inane exclamation that stated what was already obvious? Utter she did, and she was met soundly with Bellatrix's snide nonchalance.

"Of course I'm naked, little witch. I had to apparate onto Hogwarts grounds." Bellatrix said this the way Muggles might say that they had to run down to grab a newspaper. Of course, Hermione pounced on that statement like she had pounced on every other fellow Hogwarts student who brought up the subject of apparation relating to Hogwarts.

"You can't apparate on or off Hogwarts grounds. Besides, what on earth could that possibly have to do with why you're naked? Wait..you weren't even naked before! I could have sworn you were wearing robes!" 

Somehow, Hermione managed to sound condescending and baffled at the same time. Not many people could manage to do that in her position, but she supposed that was one of the perks of being herself. It was true though, the Gryffindor distinctly remembered the sensation of textured cloth against her own night gown.

"Yes you can, little witch, it just isn't exactly the simplest thing to do, now is it? I'm naked because I had to perform the apparation skyclad in order for me to be able to apparate onto Hogwarts grounds." Bellatrix was clearly amused now, and made no move to get out of Hermione's way. Instead, the tall woman raised her wand and pointed it in Hermione's direction.

"Expelliarmus."

Well. There went her wand, Hermione thought as she watched it soar through the small distance between her and Bellatrix with the air of a metallic object being attracted to a magnet. She might have had more of a chance holding on to it if she hadn't been busy trying to think of what performing "skyclad" meant. Skyclad? She hadn't learned the term in any of her classes, she was sure of it; maybe it was some arcane term used by dark wizards and witches. Although, there was a certain poetry to the term that wasn't present in most Dark Art terms that she knew of... Her lack of knowledge must have shown despite her best efforts to look all-knowing. Bellatrix raised a brow in a cynical cock, and managed to look natural in her nudity, something only achievable by people who had nothing lacking in physicality and knew it. 'The entire family is pretty damn arrogant and insufferable.' Hermione thought crossly to herself.

"Don't they teach you anything at Hogwarts? I must confess, it was my belief that wizardry is going to the dogs, as you Muggles say it, but I had no idea...Very well, attend." For a moment, Hermione knew what it felt like to be on one of the receiving ends of her famous lectures. No one had ever made her feel stupid before, and Bellatrix Lestrange of all people was managing it without even trying. Just bloody brilliant. If she got out of this alive, she swore she would never correct anybody again. Much, she silently amended.

"Performing spells skyclad is an ancient practice unique only to witches. This heightens their connection with nature and therefore, augments the power behind their spells. I know, it's all terribly crude, but it works. The spells on Hogwarts are extremely strong and this was the only way we could think of to accomplish it." Bellatrix fiddled while she spoke, toying with both wands in her slender hands. Hermione was oddly fascinated with it, but not fascinated enough that she missed the opportunity to learn something. "Even the Muggles who practice their diluted form of magic called Wicca know about this." 

Her humiliation forgotten, Hermione shot off another issue.

"Yeah okay, that's all bloody well and good, but you weren't naked before!" Her tone was almost accusatory, and her chin stuck out as it always did when she was debating a point. Somehow she felt she was going to lose this one.

"Ah, that's my little secret, little witch." She started out in a smug character but then broke off, as if deciding to change her mind. In fact, she had changed her mind. "But since after we're done here tonight, you won't be able to talk to anybody about this meeting, let alone my secrets, why not?"

Hermione could have stated millions of reasons, but kept her mouth shut for once. Waiting for Bellatrix to continue, she got up and ran two hands down the front of her robe, as if brushing some imaginary dirt away.

"I believe you are acquainted with my supposed niece, Nymphadora?"

Bellatrix sniffed slightly before she said the name and Hermione remembered that Tonks' mother Andromeda was no longer considered a member of the Black family because she had married a Muggle-born wizard. Hermione rolled her eyes. Please...she was probably the last person to be coming to to whinge on about Muggles and how they were tainting the wizarding world. And if it was about the name, Hermione would concede that Nymphadora was a rather outlandish name, but come on, Bellatrix? This was no time to dwell on that though.

"Yes, she's simply lovely." Hermione said this as primly as possible.

It was Bellatrix's turn to roll her eyes, and she did so admirably attractively.

"I could care less about her personality, little witch. Tell me, what is she?"

That was it. Hermione exploded.

"Look here, Lestrange, if this has anything to do with Tonks being half-muggle you can take it and stuff it up your sanctimonious ass! For Christ's sakes just because she's-" She imagined she could have gone on for a while, ranting and raving like the portrait of Mrs. Black at Grimmauld Place, but unfortunately, Bellatrix cut her off.

"I don't mean to interrupt your crusade for better treatment of Muggles, or whatever you think you are saying, but I wasn't referring to the taint of her blood, little witch." Contrasting to Hermione's wrathful mood, the Death Eater seemed calm, unruffled. Which aggravated Hermione more. And made her feel stupid of course. If Bellatrix wasn't talking about the fact that Tonks wasn't a pureblood then what was she talking about?

"You are aware, of course, that Nymphadora is a Metamorphagus? Girl always did spend too much time flaunting it. Outlandish hair colors, that one." Stated Bellatrix almost conversationally, like the way one would say "isn't the weather nice out today?" or "fancy a cuppa?". Which was strange to Hermione, because last she had been aware, Tonks wasn't even acknowledged on the family tree and her mother, Andromeda, was nothing but a burnt hole in between Bellatrix and Narcissa, and here Bellatrix was talking like she had just been over for tea yesterday. At this point, Hermione could almost believe that she had. She made a mental note to ask Tonks about it, given the opportunity.

"Yeah, what's that got to do with anything?..." Hermione trailed off as where Bellatrix was now was Crookshanks. "Oh dear lord."

Thoughts ran through her head too horrible to comprehend. Had Bellatrix been posing as Crookshanks all along? What about all the things she had told her orange cat? Whatever happened next, Hermione Granger had to find out.

"So..i-it's been you all along then?" Her voice was quavery, pathetic in even her hearing, and she hated it.

Bellatrix was back to her normal form again, but she was robed in the customary black witch's robes.

"No, that was just an example. I was merely trying to point out that I was naked before, I merely metamorphosed into myself wearing robes. When I fell on you I lost control and reverted back to my natural form, if you will. I am also, in case you are particularly dense, a Metamorphagus like my niece, although I have kept it a secret since it proves valuable quite often."

Hermione could have fainted. Damn it, she was going to faint and no one was going to stop her. For the first time that night, Hermione won a battle. With herself of course, which didn't bode well for her track record, but she didn't really have time to think about that as her knees buckled and she collapsed.


End file.
